


Just Like the White-Winged Dove

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: AU - No Felina, Backstory, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia works her magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like the White-Winged Dove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selden/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this. 
> 
> A/N: Title from Stevie Nicks' "Edge of Seventeen". 
> 
> Thank you to Chaosprincess, my beta! :)

Lydia liked her baths as close to boiling as she could get. She would turn on the water and when she’d come back later, there’d be steam floating over top of it. When she would climb in, for a little while, she’d just see red. Red all over her hands and her legs. 

On her, red was a perfectly beautiful color. 

Todd seemed to agree with that; then again, he seemed to believe that every color looked great on Lydia, including colors he hadn’t previously known the name for. Lydia had had to educate him – that wasn’t blue, it was turquoise; nor was that simply red, it was fuchsia. 

Lydia stretched out her legs. This was a necessary part of her evening ritual, and one of her favorite parts. Kiira was in bed, and Delores was home for the night. There were no voices to impede upon her peace. 

For now. 

Tomorrow, everything was going to change. It was a necessary change, but that didn’t mean Lydia had to like it. She had noted with distaste every necessary change since Gus Fring had come to such an awful, gut-wrenching end. Blown up in an old folks’ home. She didn’t know what the worst part of that even was; to be caught out or to be standing around some old cartel lord in a wheelchair trying to prove something to him. 

She turned her head so she could peek out the window. Even though it was winter, there was no snow on the ground – she loved that about living in Houston. It was so different from where she had lived as a child and a young adult; she could remember how the wind used to rush in, even under the hard glass door of her childhood home. She’d always have to stick her feet under blankets to keep warm.

She hated the cold. 

It had always been colder in the group homes she had lived in. There had never been enough blankets.

When she had been a teenager, Lydia had been obsessed with rags-to-riches novels. The kind where the heroine grew up poor but found out that she actually came from a rich family… Her favorite book of this type was called _Heaven_. A poor girl growing up in West Virginia found out her real mother had been a rich girl from Boston, and she had gone back to live with her mother’s rich family, to fall in love with her stepfather’s handsome brother.

Of course, once Heaven got to Boston, everything had gone to pieces.

But Lydia hadn’t been all that bothered about that part. She figured once she was rich, everything would be better. Everything would be in her hands. She would have control.   
She had figured out the way to keep the older man hanging on her every word, buying her pretty things and telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. Even his name was perfect, his last name at least – Rodarte-Quayle. Lydia loved writing it, putting that little dash in there that made it seem all the more exclusive, all the more fancy.

The excitement had been over fast, and the husband had been in his grave almost faster, but not before Lydia had learned how to conduct herself at business meetings, business dinners and ultimately, a business funeral.

They had all shook her hand and whispered how sorry they were, talked about how heartbroken they were.

“And look at you… pregnant, too. What an awful thing to happen. Awful thing.”

And Lydia had nodded too, agreed that it was the most awful thing in the world.

***

Lydia dried her hair, letting the soft towel stroke against her cheek. She looked into the mirror and saw perfection. The kind of person she needed to be in order to get everything done, in order to succeed.

To make a better life for Kiira. So she would never have to share a cot with a bunch of other kids. So she would never have to wear hand-me-down clothes. She would have the best of everything, and the best of everyone.

Lydia began to straighten her hair. She didn’t like the way that it looked when it curled; it made her look like a little girl, like some sort of deer caught in the headlights.

It revealed far too much of her old self. It didn’t fit with the image she needed to project on to the world: perfect shoes, perfect hair, high-end clothing…

She sighed. This meeting with Todd was going to be a special kind of torture, and she was dreading it already. It was exhausting to feign interest in a man who had no dream of keeping up with her intellectually. Lydia wasn’t sure that, put to it, Todd could actually spell the word, “intellectual”. 

She checked in with Delores to make sure there wasn’t anything she needed, and then she kissed Kiira goodbye. 

At least, as far as she knew, Todd didn’t know about Kiira. And she planned to keep it that way. At worst, they’d try and threaten her to get to Lydia, and at best… well, there wasn’t a best. This wasn’t exactly a group of men who valued much of anything other than their screwed up ideals.

White supremacists. What a joke. Gus had been worth a hundred Jacks. Supremacy, such as it was, didn’t come from race but from class. And class, to Lydia, was something people made for themselves. 

You just had to make sure that you never missed a beat, or people would catch a glimpse of the little white trash foster kid hiding underneath. And then it was game over.

She looked in the mirror and applied her lipstick one last time. She wished she hadn’t thought of Gus. As much as she’d told herself that his death was merely more business to Walter White, an inconvenience she had managed to overcome, the relationship had often teetered on being more than professional. Not romantic, of course – she could tell loud and clear that she wasn’t what interested Gus in the least – but maybe because that wasn’t a possibility, the whole thing had been strangely intimate in another way.

But try explaining that to this bunch. 

***

“So, I was thinking.”

They were at the usual café, and Todd was attempting to flirt with her with both their backs turned. She almost felt bad for him. It was wince-worthy. Thank God he wasn’t looking her in the eye.

“Yes, Todd? I’m assuming this is business related.”

“Well, no, not business exactly. I mean, I was thinking maybe, we could go somewhere, you know, different. Somewhere no one would know us, so we wouldn’t need to, exactly, talk like this.”

She had been prepared for this, but the slightly murmur of interest was still hard to make come out of her throat.

“Like where?” she asked finally. He seemed to need a prompt.

“Like, I was thinking, maybe… Panera Bread?”

Lydia blinked.

“…Okay.” She took a breath. Counted to ten in her mind. “We’ll go out… to Panera Bread.”

“Wow. I mean… That’s… great.” Todd sounded as if he had spent the night practicing expressions of gratitude in the mirror. She gave him an eight out of ten for effort and a four for execution. “Could I come, uh, pick you up?”

Like they were in high school, going to the prom. Like he was going to pin a corsage on her dress and she was going to go to a hotel with him and make a big deal about “losing it”.

“…Sure. Okay. Todd. You can come pick me up. From my hotel.”

She stood up and pulled her purse over her arm, watching the lights reflect off the silver and make little dots in her field of vision.

“I’ll see you at seven. Don’t be late.”

***

He pulled up in front of the hotel in a black car. She hadn’t seen it before. She figured they must have a number of them up at the compound.

She wouldn’t know. With the exception of her one attempt to correct the burnt blue, trying to whip Todd’s pathetic cook into shape, she stayed far away from that wretched place. The knowledge that Jesse Pinkman was in there, by choice or by capture, wasn’t making her any more eager. 

Lydia walked out the back way as quick as she could, not wanting to be spotted. She pulled open the passenger’s door (just leave it to Todd to make a big show out of opening the door for her and get them spotted by everyone) and climbed in, putting her purse in front of her and buckling up.

“Hi, Lydia,” Todd spoke up. “You’re looking, I mean… I like that dress.”

She was wearing a black and blue dress, though she’d had on a white and gold one until the last possible minute. It would have been a potential disaster if or when Todd accidentally spilled something on her.

“Thank you, Todd,” Lydia replied. She was really going to try tonight.

“I’m gonna go up and order. What do you want me to get?” Todd rose from his seat and then blurted out, “I’m paying. So, you know, get whatever.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow and nodded. 

“I believe I’ll take a Mediterranean salmon salad. And a cup of tea. Please see if they have chamomile, with stevia.” The likelihood of them actually having it was pretty low, and the odds of Todd being able to figure to figure out where it was even lower, but she was taking chances tonight.

“Sure!” Todd exclaimed, and he stumbled up from his seat, knocking it back haphazardly with his elbow. Lydia winced internally and thought of Gus again. How methodical he had been. He had never knocked things every which way. Everything had a place. He had this quietly domineering way about him. 

She smiled as she thought of that stupid book she had been reading. _50 Shades of Grey_. Both of those characters were ridiculous, and the consent was questionable at best, but at least Christian Grey knew how to run a company. 

In real life, Anastacia would be stuck doing everything on her own.

Todd returned with apologies, a tea, and some Sweet N’ Low. Lydia sighed, but she ran a hand through her hair and tried her best not to let her frustration show on her face.

After all, was she disappointed? It was simply Todd rising to being Todd.

And after all, she needed to make this deal work. Soon, she would need out, and would need assurances that Jack and his crew, however far reaching they may be (better not to think of the ten men in prison who found that out the hard way) wouldn’t try and force her to finish her end of the deal, or eliminate her for not doing so.

If Todd was in love with her… or whatever the hell he was about her, exactly… then she could be the perfect bargaining chip. She’d just have to bite her lip, close her eyes and think of the future. Of a new enterprise, whatever that would be. A way to keep herself above water.

She looked down at her food and forced herself to eat it, sipped her tea and thought. Thought about what she was going to do next. 

She scooped up a piece of salmon and ate it, watching Todd out of the corner of her eye. He was strangely polite; at least he hadn’t tried to put his hand on her knee or anything like that. She didn’t know if she could keep it together if he did something like that in public. Todd, thankfully, was distracted by the inner workings of his Mac and Cheese.

When he had finished, he looked up at her.

“So, uh, I had a great time and…”

“Let’s go back to my hotel.”

There, she had said it. It was out in the open. The bait was over the side of the boat and all Todd had to do was bite.

His eyes went wide, and he put his hand back down on the table.

“Uh… Yeah.”

***

Lydia wondered if, were she to pick up a book and just start reading, Todd would notice. She could even get a move-on with some spreadsheets, or start coming up with ideas for her next, more legitimate, business venture. 

She was lying on her stomach in the bathtub, her legs resting on the edges of the tub and her head raised in the air. Her hand was underneath her, and she was clandestinely rubbing her fingertip against the little nub, hoping that she’d get herself off sometime soon. It wasn’t like Todd was going to last that long.

He was buried in her from behind, his breath hot on her neck, and most of his weight leaning against her back. She was going to have to work out the next morning to get rid of the inevitable crick.

“Lydia,” Todd murmured against her ear. She stared ahead; the glass was fogging up. She stretched her legs a little wider, stroked herself again, and moaned. 

“Todd,” she whispered, and thought about all the other things she needed to get done today. 

***

She sat on the bed, her fingers grazing the soft duvet underneath her. He was still looking at her, leaning against the chest of drawers and licking his lips. He looked like such a babe in the woods that she almost felt bad to be taking advantage of him. 

“So, Lydia…” he started, then shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed to not know where to put his hands. “What do we do next?”

“Well, Todd,” she replied, letting the name drag out. “That all depends.”

“Depends on what?’

“Depends on what this all means to you.” She raised her head to look him straight in the eye.

“It means a lot to me, Miss Lydia,” he told her, and reached up to put a piece of his hair over his ear. “It means… means a lot.”

“I hope so, Todd. Because we’re going into dangerous days. There’s a lot of… a lot of waves ahead, if you know what I mean. And I’m going to need… I’m going to need someone to hold the oar to keep me steady. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Of course, Miss Lydia,” Todd replied. He shifted and knocked the digital alarm clock off the chest of drawers. “Of course.”

***

Lydia had her hands in his hair. It was surprisingly soft. 

“Right there,” she told him, and he pushed her against the headboard again.

She could train him. That was right. Positive reinforcement.

“Right there,” she repeated, and she took her hands back, grabbed the bedpost and hung on. “Again. Do it again.”

“I like when you tell me what to do,” he breathed against her chest as he lowered his head, nose pressed against her chest.

“I know,” she gasped out, cutting off the sigh. “Oh, Todd… I know.”

***

“Miss Lydia.” Lydia turned her head to see Delores standing in the doorway. “Is it okay to go home now? I needed to…”

“That’s fine, Delores,” Lydia said with a smile. “Is Kiira in bed?”

Delores nodded.

“She wants you to come tuck her in, though.”

“I will.” Lydia put her papers back into the filing cabinet and stood back up. “I’ll be right in. It’s okay. Thank you for staying late tonight, Delores… I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, Miss Lydia.”

Delores walked out the door, and Lydia sighed. She looked at the calendar on her desk.

There was a big red circle around tomorrow. She’d be meeting with Todd. 

She got up and walked into Kiira’s room. The little girl was lying on her side, clutching a tiny doll. A beautiful doll that Lydia had special ordered to look just like Kiira.

“Kiira, honey,” Lydia said, sitting beside her.

“Hi Mommy.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Lydia pulled up the blanket and gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too.”

***

Her eventual husband had been sleeping with her since the day she turned eighteen. He had bought her fancy things, lots of necklaces and nice dresses. Lydia hated dresses.

But she loved high heels. She had filled a closet in the apartment he had rented for her, filled it with boxes upon boxes of high heels and hung designer coats on the wall, in red and purple and her favorite, dark blue.

Every time he told her that he would leave his wife before the year was out, he would buy her something new. Something nice and shiny. 

And then, lo and behold, his wife had left him instead and saved him the trouble.

Lydia had been married within the year, after twelve years of hearing the same old song.

And then he’d mentioned to her that she was thirty, no spring chicken, and he’d threatened to look elsewhere.

Had put his hand on her neck like he wanted to hurt her.

It had been such a shame what happened after that.

***

Todd’s response, when she told him the news, was some sort of slack-jawed amazement, or maybe it was open-mouthed wonder. She could never exactly tell with him.

“Wow… Really?”

“Yes, really,” she hissed, breathing from her neck instead of her chest. “And we need to figure out what we’re going to do about this. Because you and I… this is something we’re in together.”

“I… I mean, yeah. Okay. What do you need me to do?” His head swiveled towards her booth, and Lydia had to admit that Mike had been right; it did look rather foolish to meet this   
way, particularly during this type of conversation. 

“Well, I need you to get me out… If we’re going… to do this…” She pursed her lips and turned her own head to look him in the eye. “If we’re going to have a baby… This is way too dangerous. I can’t have it. There’s… there’s toxins. When you’re pregnant and you’re stressed, there’s toxins that lead to birth defects, and I don’t know how to love a child with two heads, or with four arms. I’m just not strong enough.”

Todd blinked.

“Yeah. I mean. Okay. I’ll talk to Uncle Jack!” He slammed his hands down on the table, and a few people looked. “Wow… Yeah. I don’t… Even know what to say. But I think, I mean, I think I’m supposed to like, ask you to marry me.”

Lydia leaned her elbow on the table and used it to prop her chin up.

“Well… Thank you, Todd. That’s very… flattering. I guess chivalry isn’t quite dead, after all.”

***

“Uncle Jack wants to talk to you,” Todd relayed the next day at Loyola’s. “Wants you to come down to the lab.”

“Sure. Okay,” Lydia said, putting a piece of hair behind her ear. 

She put her hand on her stomach and hoped she was playing this right.

There had to be a proper way to play this. 

***

“Miss Quayle, if I can be so… direct… you ain’t a babe in the woods. There’s ways women can keep from getting in that sort of way, and so I’m trying to figure what you’re getting out of this.”

Lydia raised her eyes to Jack’s in the most innocent gaze she could muster.

“Well, Jack,” she replied, holding up her right hand. “I guess I just care about your nephew. And I want his child to be raised in the best… safest… environment possible.”

“You just want out. You want to cut and run, and you’re using Toddy as your escape route.”

Lydia bit her lip.

“You plan on telling him that?” 

Jack paused a long moment, then threw up his hands. 

“All right then. But if you want to get married, then by hell, you’ll get married. We’ll have a regular clubhouse wedding. A down-home sort of celebration.”

Lydia locked eyes with him.

“Well then. I suppose we will.”

***

“Lydia?” 

She was lying on her back on the bed in her hotel room, reading In the Time of the Butterflies. It was a definite step up from 50 Shades of Grey.

She swiveled her head to the side.

“Yes, Todd?”

“What should we do about Jesse, then? I mean… It seems an awful shame, but we won’t really be needing him anymore. But I think… I mean, we’re like, friends. So it seems… seems a shame. I still haven’t really gotten to, you know, know him.”

Lydia put down her book.

“You think Jack would let us keep him? I mean… Around here?”

“If I asked, maybe,” Todd replied. “Maybe.”

“Then ask him.”

Lydia went back to her book. She wondered if Todd would use the argument that Jesse Pinkman had followed him home.

“And Lydia?”

She turned her head.

“Yes?”

“When am I gonna meet your daughter? You know, if we’re gonna be married.”

“In time, Todd…” Lydia breathed from her chest, with difficulty. “In time.”

***

The world moved very fast after that, not as if it had ever moved at any other pace for Lydia. There was a flurry of purchases – of a dress (it had taken her a few days to find the right one), decorations, and a cake. Apparently all of these vendors were people that Jack knew; she guessed he had more influence then she’d thought. 

She examined herself in a full-length mirror, spotting the first tell-tale signs of her figure changing. 

She looked good.

But there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Todd was pushing for this meeting with Kiira, and she had to make a decision. Either Kiira was going to be in on this bizarre marriage, and Lydia would be putting her in danger, or she would have to abandon her entirely, leave her with Delores and come up with some reason why she wouldn’t be living with the two of them.

Lydia shut her eyes. 

_I’ll scream…_

_Promise me I don’t disappear._

Disappearing into a ditch or into a house with Todd, disappeared was gone was abandoned was never seen again and never, never knowing.

She put her hand against her mouth and bit it, wanting to scream her head off.

When she came back downstairs, everything was in order. Every piece in place.

Like Gus would want.

***

She put her key in the lock and turned it, slipped inside her home with Todd right behind her. 

She hung up her coat, counting to ten slowly in her head as Kiira came rushing down the steps, followed by Delores.

“Welcome home, Miss Lydia,” Delores said, looking at Todd but not asking who he was. 

Kiira rushed up and threw her arms around Lydia’s waist.

“You’re home! Finally!” she said. “I missed you so much…”

Lydia hugged her back. She could feel eyes boring into her shoulder, and slowly let go.

“Kiira, honey… There’s… somebody that I would like you to meet.”

_1-2-3-4-5-6-7… Breathe in, breathe out._

Kiira looked up at Todd, then back at Lydia, eyes wide. 

“This… uh, this is,” Lydia brushed her hands against her coat. “This is Todd. We… we’re getting married. Isn’t that… exciting?”

Silence.

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you…” 

Todd extended his hand, and Kiira shyly took it. 

“Hi,” she managed, then turned and ran off. Delores turned to follow her, but Lydia shook her head.

“She needs… she’s got to… to process it. She’s shy.”

_She never sleeps through the night…_

“Okay,” Todd agreed. “I’m sure we’ll get to know each other better.”

“I… Well, we’ll be busy, Todd. You’ll probably barely see her. It’s nothing to worry about. That’s why I have a nanny.”

Todd snapped his fingers.

“You know, that’s what we could use Jesse for. For a second nanny.” He looked at Delores. “I mean, no offense. I’m sure you’re, you know, good and all. But my Uncle says…”

Lydia took his hand and guided him upstairs.

“Thanks, Delores… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As they went upstairs, Todd smiled at her. 

“If we have a boy, then, well, he’ll have to spend a lot of time with Uncle Jack, learning the right way to be. He’s got a lot of opinions, you know. About lots of stuff.” He looked back downstairs. “But if we have a girl, then I guess I’d better just leave her to you.”

***

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the eyes of God to join together this man, Todd Alquist, and this woman, Lydia Rodarte-Quayle.”

Lydia didn’t have a Maid of Honor, but that was okay. She didn’t have a lot of female friends anyway. 

Kiira was the flower girl. If she wasn’t here, it would look… off. Like she didn’t really want this.

She needed the nine-month reprieve. At least. It was a start. Nine months to come up with a better plan, or nine months to get in that much deeper. To have to keep paddling underwater. 

“Todd, please take this ring and place it upon Lydia’s finger, and repeat after me…”

Jack’s eyes were looking directly at her. She smiled back at him. The picture of bridal bliss. 

How was she going to sleep in the same bed with Todd every night without pulling out her hair? 

“Lydia, please take this ring and place it upon Todd’s finger…”

She had never looked at him quite so close up before. She could see every pore in his face. His eyes were looking right at her, but she couldn’t figure out if there was anything behind them. Maybe they were just shades over a dark room. She suddenly got the sense that there were questions she should have asked about him… but if she was going to ask them, that time would have been long ago. Before she’d brought them in as her new cooks when Declan had failed, perhaps.

But she hadn’t wanted to see. She had wanted her hands clean.

“You may kiss the bride.” 

Lydia closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

***

Lydia wasn’t sure how most of the compound crew felt about the wedding, but they seemed to relish any excuse to get thoroughly and totally plastered, and to proceed to dance badly, hoop and holler. 

It was about the third verse of “Cotton-Eyed Joe” when Lydia bumped into Jesse Pinkman over by a far table full of food.

“Jesse,” she commented. 

He looked up at her. He was dressed relatively professionally, something that might have been considered a tux if it had actually fit him. He was clean-shaven, but she noticed a few scars on his face. He kept his eyes trained on the ground.

“Congratulations,” he mumbled. 

“You’re coming to live with us,” Lydia told him, sliding her hand up and down the stem of her glass. “I hope you’ll be happy there.”

Jesse looked up at her and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he told her. 

Todd appeared behind Jesse and slapped him on the back.

“I can’t wait. It’s going to be so exciting. My girl and my friend, and all of us living together.”

Jesse looked at him.

“Can’t wait,” he echoed. 

“Has anyone grabbed Jesse a drink?” Lydia asked. She remembered Mike’s words as they have shoved her into her car. _This kid’s “vote” is the only reason you’re still breathing._ “I mean… He’s our guest. Let me get him something.” She put a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “You two catch up.” 

She drifted away before anyone could stop her. She plucked a glass from a stack and began to pour Jesse a Coke. She’d have to get him alone at some point. They’d have to figure this out. 

“Miss Quayle.” She whirled around to see Jack standing there. 

“Mrs. Alquist now, I suppose,” she replied, lifting up the ring. 

“Yes, well…” Jack leaned his elbow on the table. “And enjoy the rat. I suppose he’s your wedding gift. Feel free to waste him if he gets to be too much trouble. Though I know you don’t like getting your hands dirty.”

“I appreciate that.” Lydia set the cup for Jesse back down on the table. “Did you have something to say?”

Jack narrowed his eyes.

“I raised Toddy from a pup, you hear, and I take an interest in what happens in his life.”

Lydia smiled.

“Well, it must be pretty exciting for you then. Toddy’s wife and…” She gestured to her stomach. “Toddy’s baby.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Well, don’t you have another kid? An older kid?”

“Yes. I have a daughter. What’s that got to do with anything?” Lydia squeezed her hand around the glass so hard she could feel the indents forming.

“Well, so you’ve been married before. Your husband died, didn’t he?”

“That’s right.” Lydia looked at him. 

“A car accident, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. He took a wrong turn on an icy road.”

Jack looked at her. 

“Just so you know,” he leaned in to breathe against her ear. “Toddy’s an excellent driver. Taught him myself when he was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Lydia turned her head. She smiled.

“Let’s hope so, Jack.” 

She picked up the glass and turned to walk back to the crowd. 

_The End_


End file.
